The Nanny
by didyousaychocolate
Summary: It's 1991, Crowley needs a new nanny, and Castiel needs a new job. Written for the Crowley Big Bang on LJ, it's an AU based on the sitcom of the same name. Crowley/Castiel.


**i.**

"What do you mean, you can't send anyone out!" He tried to keep the promise of a painful death out of his voice, and was all too aware that he didn't succeed. The tinny voice on the other end of the line hesitated before apologizing profusely, and he rolled his eyes; he supposed if the company was this poorly put together it was good that he find out eventually and switch, but this was well and truly the worst possible time for it- he had his dreaded monthly Saturday board meeting in an hour, and had been waiting for the new nanny from the agency to come for _three_. If there was anything Crowley Sheffield hated, it was being unprofessional. That company could have _at least _given him some kind of notice.

The tinny voice was still droning on and on with hasty apologies, obviously afraid of losing one of their richest repeat clients, trying to claim that maybe on_ Monday_ they could send out someone new, someone who hadn't yet heard his household's notorious _reputation_. His anger continued to rise. Who did they think they were? He had been waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and _fuck_, he realized with a start, Adam was starting to cry again, he could hear it from all the way down the hall, and Jesus-

"Stop," one word, and the representative on the other end of the line went silent. "Just, stop. I am not going to wait a few days. I am not even going to wait a few minutes. You people were supposed to send someone out _this morning. _What time is it now?" He tried to take in a calming breath- it didn't work. "IT'S NEARLY THREE IN THE AFTERNOON, YOU INCOMPOTENT BASTARDS," he shouted into the receiver, and resisted the urge to slam it into the phone a few times. "I'll find another agency. If you know what's good for you, you _won't _bother sending anyone over _ever again_." He took in a deep calming breath and gently set the phone down. He fisted his hands, resisting screaming. He took another deep breath, ignored Adam's crying for a few more seconds as he tried to calm down, and cut off his thoughts of regret before they could start. So maybe this had never been his life's goal, waiting around for nannies. Maybe he had never intended on having children, had never thought it would be an issue, maybe sometimes he liked to think he rued the day those children took over his life. But he knew, deep down, that he didn't regret anything. This was his life now. This was his life, and he was happy; he had a successful business, and fantastic kids, and sure, maybe he hadn't asked for children, but that didn't stop them from-

"Dean Winchester!" he shouted, hearing a scream from down the hall and maniacal laughter, "Leave your brother alone!" Sometimes it was hard to remember why he didn't have any regrets.

He could hear running in the hall, and saw his eldest whiz by his office doorway, and had a thought. Dean was only twelve, and he was a horrible trouble maker, but he _was _extremely responsible, and though he may torment Sam, if push came to shove he would do the right thing. It would only be few hours at most, anyway, and did he have any other options? "You," he called after him, and heard the running stop before reluctant steps doubled back and Dean's face poked past the door frame.

"He started it, I swear!" Dean said, before Crowley could get a word out. Crowley frowned at him.

"You're talking like I don't know you." Dean heard the hint of humor in his tone and smiled with the knowledge that he wasn't really in trouble, striding into the room to flop down onto the couch. Crowley glanced at his watch before looking back over at Dean and he decided to cut to the point.

"I'm going to need you to watch your brothers today," he said, and Dean's smile died as he flew up the second after sitting down, his expression indignant.

"Dad, that isn't fair! I'm going to the theatre with Mary Andrews today and you know it, you can't-"

"Well that's just too bad, isn't it," Crowley cut him off; he didn't have time to argue. He still had to check on Adam. But, oh, right. Mary Andrews, Dean had been ranting about getting her to go on a date with him for weeks now. He'd have to make it up to him later for this. "You need to be here today. The agency canceled, your uncle is out of state, and frankly, I don't trust the lot of you with anyone that isn't a relative or a professional and even _then_." Dean still didn't look pleased.

"You're going to owe me one, Dad. You _know _I've been trying to get Mary to go out with me for forever, and-" Crowley held up his hand.

"Yes, yes, I know, you've been going on about it like a lovesick girl for weeks." Dean just rolled his eyes at him. "I'll get you tickets to whatever inane thing you want to go to next week, so call her now and invite her to that instead." Dean frowned but seemed placated as he stood and walked out of the room. Crowley shook his head and got up and grabbed his coat, leaving his office and going down the hall to pop into the nursery and check on Adam. He was only sniffling now, and as Crowley picked him up out of his crib, making sure the toddler was okay, he stopped altogether. Crowley smiled down at him, and thought about how things would be if he had never had custody of the little miscreant practically forced on him; no nannies, only two brats to look after, more peace and quiet- and the squirming mass in his arms probably either living in squalor or dead. Sometimes he wanted his peace back; most of the time he didn't.

He may not have asked for this, but it wasn't a bad life.

Adam started to drift off again, which was unsurprising, since he'd only been down for ten minutes when he started bawling, so Crowley laid him back down in his crib, about to turn and continue downstairs when he heard it- a voice, drifting in from the open window.

"My name-" the male voice cut off and paused, and Crowley figured he could imagine the person sighing. Form the faintness of the sound, he figured they were standing by the front door. "My name is Castiel Novak, standing in for my cousin Anna Novak, who is sick. She is your local-" the obviously nervous mystery man stopped again and Crowley smiled a little. The sound of a person struggling always did his heart good. "My name is Castiel Novak, current stand in for your local Avon representative Anna Novak, and-" A door to door makeup peddler? Crowley smirked. Oh, this was _too good._ He left his position by the window, leaving the room to go downstairs and get to the front door before the man knocked and Dean got it- watching Dean harass the man would certainly be hilarious, but Crowley had had a truly _awful_morning. Screwing with the salesman at his door would be just the thing he needed.

He stood by the front door and waited for the man to knock. And waited. And waited. Sam walked by carrying a cookie out of the kitchen and gave him a funny look, so Crowley glared at him, which just made the little monster laugh as he continued on upstairs. Feared by rival CEO's and his own board of directors alike, but laughed at by his own children?

He could still hear the man mumbling to himself outside, so he rolled his eyes, undid the lock, pulled it open, and stared at him.

He was tall, yet he still managed to look like a child dressed in his father's clothing. His trench coat was far too big for him, his suit was a bit messy and rumpled, and strangest of all, his whole ensemble was obviously well made, tailored, and expensive. He stared at Crowley, eyes a bit wide and with an oddly intense gaze, though he also looked a bit startled. The man hesitated before saying:

"Hello, sir. Are you the owner of this home?" His tone was surprisingly even given how uncertain he had sounded through the window, and his voice deeper than Crowley had expected, even with the snatches of speech he had heard from upstairs. Crowley just stared at him and then raised his eyebrows, waving his hand in the universal motion for yes, what the hell do you want from me. The man nodded at him, and continued "My name is Castiel Novak, and-"

"Oh!" He cut the man off, plastering a pleasantly surprised look onto his face. "You must be the new nanny, then?" He asked, grabbing the man- Castiel- by the arm and pulling him into the entryway.

Castiel's eyes grew wider and he opened his mouth like he was trying to make at least _some _kind of sound, but nothing would come out. Crowley was laughing on the inside, as he smiled outwardly. "You're quite a bit late, I have to say. I've been expecting you for over _four hours_." And what did a little exaggeration hurt? The man finally seemed to find his voice, saying:

"I'm sorry, sir, but I am _not-_" Crowley shook his head and cut him off again,

"Well, it's no use getting upset over it now, I suppose, seeing as at least you're here now," he smiled perhaps a bit meanly at the man, whose eyes narrowed- _damn_. They usually didn't get suspicious so fast.

"I apologize, but I'm not-"

"Aaaaaaaaah! Dad!" Sam yelled, running back down the stairs, Dean chasing after him with a fork seemingly sticking out of his own eyeball, blood leaking out from between his fingers- ah, the old ketchup over the eye trick. Crowley suppressed his laughter as Sam ran to his side and half hid behind him, glaring at his older brother and sticking his tongue out. Dean stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at Castiel, still holding the fork in place in front of his eye.

"Dad, who's that?" At Dean's question Sam suddenly realized they weren't alone, and he looked up at the stranger.

"Is he our new Nanny?" Sam asked uncertainly. "We've never had a male nanny before." Sam frowned. Dean shared a glance and a smile with him and snorted.

"What would you call that? A manny?" He looked straight at Castiel and smiled mock sweetly, _still _with the fork pretending to jut out of his eyesocket. "Are you our new manny?" Crowley chose to remain silent as Castiel frowned at Dean, turning so he was facing all of them. He looked pointedly at Dean, then at Crowley, and said,

"No. I am not you new 'manny'," Crowley could _hear _the air quotes. "And you should also not run on a staircase with a fork pointed that way." He continued to stare at Dean. "It's exceedingly dangerous," he added on, awkwardly, previous bout of indignation apparently melting away. Crowley stared at him. He expected the man to leave, like a normal person, but he just continued to stare at all of them, between Dean and Crowley and Sam, frowning.

No one said anything for a few long moments. The man blinked, seemingly unsure as to what he should do. "Would it be appropriate for me to leave now?" He asked, glancing at the door. Crowley glanced up at the ceiling and suppressed a sigh. This had been much less fun than he had hoped.

"If you aren't the nanny, then yes, that would be for the best, wouldn't it?" The man nodded and turned, walking towards the door. Crowley bent down a bit, hugging Sam quickly before straightening up and pointing at Dean, giving him a sharp look. "You, Dean Winchester, had better look after your brothers well. If I come back and find _one hair or eyeball-_"

"Yeah yeah yeah," Dean interrupted, sniffing the ketchup on his hand. "I know. You'll disembowel me and feed my body to the dog, whatever." And then he wandered down to the hall to bathroom, presumably, _hopefully_, to wash his hands.

Crowley looked back down at Sam. "I'll be home no later than five, alright? The meeting today shouldn't go on too long." Sam nodded and smiled at him, and then stared after the door with a look of confusion on his face. Crowley followed his line of sight- the man, Castiel, was standing by the front door, hand on the doorknob, with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on your way."

"Are you truly leaving multiple young children alone in the care of a pre-teen with no regard for safety." Was that a judgmental tone he heard? Crowley didn't like many things, but he _hated _being judged.

"I don't believe that it's any business of yours _what _my plans are for my children."

"It is anyone's business when the welfare of innocent children is called into question." And the man still wasn't moving, standing in front of the door. Crowley wondered if he'd move if he tried to force him out.

"What, so do _you _want to stay here and watch them?"

"If it would mean there's an adult present to make sure no harm befalls them, then yes. I do."

Crowley almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. A stranger wanted to stay in his house. With his children. So that no harm would befall them. "What are you, a saint?" He asked, incredulous. He narrowed his gaze at the man. "Or perhaps you like children? A bit too much, maybe?"

The man's eyes went wide. "I apologize, I should have- I didn't mean-" He frowned. "I did not mean to seem rude or- eager." He stood there for a few more moments, shifting uncomfortably now under Crowley's watch. "I suppose I'll be going, then." And he turned back to the door, about to pull it open-

"Wait." The man looked back at Crowley, confused. But, he was right. Sam knew to dial 911 in an emergency, but what if Dean needed some kind of immediate help? What if something suddenly happened to Adam, what if he got hurt somehow, would they even notice? Dean certainly wasn't going to sit with his baby brother the whole time Crowley was out. He might listen to the baby monitor but- "You may have had a good point," he conceded, "about the safety issue." And what a novel rarity that was; people didn't often have good points. People didn't often have anything intelligent to say or anything useful to put forward at all, and while this man did seem like an uncertain, nervous wreck, he wasn't as grating or annoying as the past few nannies that had been under his employ. They were all simpering, whiny bints, all too afraid to ever express their own opinions; no one had rightfully questioned his judgment in a long time. And the man seemed genuinely concerned, willing to go out of his way to look after another person's kids seemingly just because it was the right thing to do.

Also, he was amusingly awkward. Crowley stared at the other man, considering him. He'd only known him for a few minutes, and already he liked him more than any other potential employee that he'd ever met, and Crowley saw, quite clearly, an opportunity, and he was nothing if not an opportunist. This man could be and unexpected blessing in disguise, Crowley figured, and he couldn't let him get away without at least trying- he really didn't want to have to research entire agencies to make sure the people they represented were quality. Investigating one individual would be much simpler, and he had the time to call in a few background checks- it was the weekend, after all.

"You don't have a job, do you," he stated. Castiel scrunched his eyebrows, clearly confused by the question.

"I am selling products-"

"Yes, but that isn't really your job, is it?"

The man's expression darkened. "How did you know that."

Crowley shrugged and smiled. "Here's a hint: if you're going to practice your sales pitch, do it _before _you're at the door of the person you're trying to sell to." Castiel didn't reply, but he also didn't make any move to leave, so Crowley went on. "Anyways, as I said, you don't have a job." He waited a few moments- Castiel still remained silent, staring at him. Waiting. "Would you like one?"

Castiel looked confused. "Are you accepting my proposal that I remain until you return?"

"Oh dear God no. I'm surprised you'd even suggest I let a stranger watch over my kids, since you're apparently so concerned about their _safety_," he smirked. "After all, I may not think you're the murdering type, but you never know, I could be wrong. What I'm suggesting is, you leave me your information, I'll reschedule my meeting, you go about your day while I check out you are who you say you are and that you don't have any previous or outstanding warrants, and maybe at the end of the day you'll have a cushy, well paying position waiting for you." He could reschedule the meeting no problem. He would no doubt be late if he kept the current time anyways, and he was the CEO; he did always like to keep his directors on their toes.

Castiel stood, watching him, this time in appraisal. He was obviously considering the offer, and Crowley hoped he would accept- he didn't often meet people he found interesting. Castiel seemed to hesitate before saying:

"What types identification and information do you require?" Crowley smiled as he started rattling off the things he'd need to know; but in his head, all he could think was: _success._

* * *

><p>Castiel left the house of Crowley Sheffield with mixed feelings- he knew he was a burden to Anna, even if a welcome one, as her home was barely large enough for herself, let alone herself and an adult cousin. But was he making a wise choice? It seemed on the surface to be a good proposition, but he was unsure. He had only just met this man and his family, and suddenly he was given the opportunity to be their live in nanny? It all seemed a bit— sudden. But then again, everything in his life now seemed sudden and uncertain, so maybe this just went right along with it. Dare he hope, maybe it could even fix it? A steady income and a home, one gained for the one he had recently lost, and all he had to do was look after children- and he always had been good with children.<p>

Castiel felt a bit more optimistic. He was sure any background checks Mr. Sheffield would have run would turn out fine. Even if he called his family for some kind of reference, they wouldn't betray him; they would do nothing that might mar the family name. He could conceive of no reason Mr. Sheffield would choose to not hire him, and so he headed back to Anna's, letting a slight smile alight his face- he now at least had something to hope for.

**ii.**

Crowley stared at his phone, wondering; Castiel Novak was a much more complicated person than he had expected, and he admitted he was mildly frustrated that his people hadn't been able to find out more about him. He came from a very rich family, had lived in one of the penthouses they owned in Manhattan, and had been doing rather well as a manager in their investment firm; that is, up until two weeks ago, when he suddenly quit and moved in with his cousin in Queens, beginning a search for a new job. Before that he seemed to be a thoroughly average rich son; he had gone to a small liberal arts school in the pacific northwest, excelled in his classes, got accepted to the business program at Princeton, graduated with honors, and started right off working in the Novak family company. He had no arrest record, not even from when he was a juvenile, and the most concrete thing that could be distinguished of his activities from when he wasn't with his family or working was the once a week trip he would make to go and volunteer at the animal shelter. He seemed to live a very quiet, very dignified life; people only ever had good things to say about him.

Why, then, the break with his family, the loss of his job, and the move to a bad end of town? No one seemed to know; Crowley admitted that it really wasn't any of his business, because nothing else from Castiel's history had shown him to be anything but a fantastic candidate for the job Crowley wanted him to perform. But he was curious. Anna and Castiel Novak were the only two people of their family not to be in their closely knit fold.

Crowley glanced at the clock; it was nearly ten AM, which was when he had told Castiel to return for a secondary interview. He had seemed to take the news that he had checked out readily, without any sense of relief when Crowley had told him over the phone the previous evening, indicating he hadn't been worried about anything, that he had thought he had no reason to _not _check out. It was reassuring. Crowley tried to let his curiosity go.

The baby monitor emitted a few googling toddler noises, startling Crowley from his thoughts; he glanced at it, picked it up, and made his way into the nursery. Dean was still passed out, no doubt from staying up playing that idiotic game console of his, which he would definitely be hearing about later, and Sam was sitting outside reading. It was silent in the house, for once. He walked over to the crib and picked Adam up, who was blessedly quiet for this time of day, so close to lunch.

Crowley marveled at the fact that he'd only had custody of the nine month old for four months, and already there was a routine, at least for the weekends when he could afford to be home all day. Four months. Four months and there had already been seven different nannies, and he wasn't really sure what to blame for that- his own caustic sense of humor, or Dean's.

Dean hadn't taken to the nanny concept well. He hadn't had to have one since Sam had started Kindergarten and been old enough to go to daycare after school, and that had been four years ago. He had been prepared to keep on the last woman who had worked for them, for those last two years until Sam was four, Ellen, but she was pregnant and recently married, and excited to take care of her own children full time. Since then, it had only been Sam, Dean, and Crowley, and that seemed to have been the way Dean liked it, if the way he treated the new nannies was any indication. Constant pranks, a cruel attitude, more biting remarks than even Crowley thought was necessary- the first one had left after two weeks when Dean ended putting Nair in her shampoo- Crowley had found it mildly amusing, because he had found her extremely annoying, but she had been efficient, and she was good with Adam, so Dean had been grounded for the next month; in hindsight, that had only really served to make things with the next woman worse.

Not that Dean could be blamed for all of the departures. Crowley admitted that he didn't have the nicest way of talking to people; for all that he could smooth talk someone when he needed something from them, he could be very condescending towards his employees, and he knew he had a bit of a temper when things didn't go perfectly his way; it had hurt a lot of feelings.

With any luck, Castiel would be different.

He bounced Adam a bit in his arms as he made his way down to the kitchen, hoping his secretary had remembered to order the proper baby food this time because he really hated being cross with her, she was generally so good at what she did, when there was a knock at the door- he tilted Adam a bit so he could get a look at his watch- 10 o'clock, right on time. He liked punctuality.

"Mr. Novak," he greeted when he opening the door, and Castiel bowed his head slightly in return.

"Mr. Sheffield," he said, and Crowley waved one hand, rather awkwardly with a baby in his arms, and said:

"No, call me Crowley, please. I've only got a few more questions, and then I expect you have no problem getting to things right away." It was a statement, and not a question, and Crowley smirked inwardly when Castiel's gaze again turned to mild confusion, an expression he found adorably laughable. He was feeling more and more confident in his decision every second. There was something special about being able to handpick someone for a job and get it right.

He stepped back from the door and ushered Castiel into the foyer, shutting and locking the door behind him. "So you do have experience with babies, correct? I've been lead to believe that you have a few younger siblings."

Castiel nodded. "I do have multiple younger brothers and sisters, and my youngest I helped care for from the time she was an infant. That was less than a decade ago; I imagine techniques haven't changed." Crowley smiled a little, pleasantly surprised; he hadn't figured Castiel had a sense of humor, but maybe it was so dry it was just easy to miss.

He moved to hold Adam with one arm and reached his right hand out with the other, saying "Well, then. Looks like you've got the job, Mr. Novak." Castiel reached out and grasped his hand firmly, shaking it.

"If I am to be staying here, I request that you call me Castiel." Crowley nodded in acquiescence, pulled his hand back, took a step closer to Castiel, and held Adam out to him. Castiel looked puzzled for a moment before he hesitated and reached out, taking the baby from Crowley and cradling it in his arms. He stared down at the child and then up at his new employer.

"I apologize, but I hadn't realized I would be starting today. I haven't brought any of my things."

Crowley shrugged. "We'll get them later." He began walking down the hall to the kitchen, and when he didn't hear Castiel following, turned partly back around and called, "Aren't you coming? Adam's going to need feeding, and he's rather fussy about his food, so you'll need to learn what he likes and how he likes it soon," before continuing on. This time he heard Castiel follow.

* * *

><p>Crowley admitted to being slightly impressed. For a man who had no children and that hadn't been formally trained, and who up until a few weeks ago had been involved in investment banking, Castiel was taking to professional child care quickly. He hadn't needed any help figuring out how to feed the baby, or how to change him, or anything. Crowley glanced out the window and saw Sam had moved from reading under a tree to reading <em>in<em>the tree- how many times had he told the boy not to climb the damn things? It was too dangerous and too high up for an eight year old. He frowned and moved to open the window looking from the nursery into the backyard and hesitated, looking sideways at Castiel, who was just laying Adam down. He had gone down fast today, after his lunch, which wasn't entirely unexpected what with the full tour of their house for Castiel's benefit, the laying of the ground rules along with the exact details of their schedule, and the demonstration he had demanded Castiel give that he knew how to change a diaper properly. Crowley hadn't really doubted him, but it was amusing.

Castiel said, without looking away from Adam, "I assume you have a baby monitor." Crowley's small smile started to reappear. It seemed he really had made a good choice.

Crowley nodded. "In my office." He stared at Castiel, and Castiel stared back until he got the idea, turning and leaving to go and get it himself. Crowley turned to look back out the window, and then listened- the house was silent; he couldn't hear anything.

That could never be good, not this close to noon. He left the nursery to go and find Dean, going further down the hall to Dean's room and tossing open the closed door.

There he was. Passed out on his floor in front of the television, just as he had expected; he walked over the piles of clothes and toys littering the floor and stood over his son, who still hadn't woken up. He waited a few seconds before turning, walking to grab one of the three different cups of liquid Dean had scattered throughout the room and looked into it- it was flat soda. Shouldn't be _too_hard for the cleaners to get out of the carpet, he figured. He smiled and walked back over until he was standing right over Dean, waited a few more seconds, and when Dean hadn't woken yet, held the glass over the boy's form and upended it.

"What- I don't" Dean sputtered and coughed, most of the soda having gotten him in the face, some of it going up his nose, and Crowley just said in a hard tone,

"How many times have I told you not to stay up all night playing video games." Dean sputtered and glared up at him, and Crowley glared right back. "It isn't healthy. You need to have a normal sleep cycle, and-"

"Dad," Dean finally whined, sitting up and pulling a dirty shirt that had been tossed haphazardly on the floor god only knew when over to wipe his face on, "it's way too early for this." Crowley looked at him askance.

"What did you just tell me? Too early? You're saying it's too bloody early? It's noon!" He shouted, and Dean just rolled his eyes.

"Noon is early, Dad."

"No. No, noon is not early." He looked around the room, at the piles of clothes and dishes; "your room is a pigsty. Clean it up before dinner and I'll forget what I told you I'd do to your television the next time you stayed up past curfew." Dean huffed, but turned and stared at his room, clearly calculating the fastest way to clean it with minimal amounts of work. Crowley turned back to the doorway to leave and saw Castiel standing, holding the baby monitor and watching them, his head tilted and that confused expression Crowley was finding he enjoyed so much back on his face. He walked past Castiel out the door and into the hallway, Castiel following.

"What."

"I find your interactions with your eldest son confusing," Castiel said, without hesitation. Crowley stopped in his tracks- that was unexpected. He turned to face Castiel and glare at him.

"Just what are you saying?"

Castiel stared at him without a hint of apology. "You treat him mockingly as a distant and unloving parent would, but in a way that expresses both your caring and your concern for his wellbeing. It seems contradictory, especially considering the fact that the few times I have seen you interact with Sam, you have shown him nothing but affection."

Crowley just stared at him blankly, covering up what otherwise surely would have been a dumbfound and slightly angered expression. Castiel just got right to the point and didn't hesitate to speak his mind, didn't he? Crowley supposed he was happy with that- it was a good trait for a person to have, especially someone dealing with his children day to day. And he supposed it was good, that Castiel was able to pick up on their interactions- that he paid attention to them, and already focused on them enough to even notice such things and be able to raise such a question. No one else ever had, though out of lack of caring or fear to speak up and ask him something, Crowley couldn't sure.

But how to answer _this_?

Castiel must have taken his silence and his blank stare for anger: "I apologize if I've overstepped my bounds-"

"No, it's fine," Crowley was quick to cut him off. "As long as you have a valid point or an honest question, please, speak up. You _are_going to be taking care of my monsters." He paused, trying to figure the best way to concisely explain his relationship with Dean- if Castiel was going to be staying with them, he should at least know a few things about the boys' pasts so he could know what he was talking about if it ever came up, with them or with anyone else.

Castiel had asked about his relationship with Dean, which certainly was different than the one he had with Sam and the one he imagined he'd one day had with Adam- he figured the best way to explain it would be to give Castiel the background he may one day need. "Do you know why Sam and Dean have a different last name from mine?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, but I had wondered. I thought perhaps Winchester was a common middle name between them." Crowley looked at him strangely.

"Who would pick such a horrible name and give it to both brothers, no, that's idiotic. That's most certainly their surname." Crowley paused, wondering how much to say- he didn't like the idea of rehashing much of it with a relative stranger, even one that seemed like good enough of a person to trust his children with. "I had a best friend, once. Sweet girl, met her in college. We were roommates after her parents died, and she didn't have any close family, so after she had her kids she thought it would be a good idea to name me godfather to both of them," Crowley smiled, thinking about Mary. "Her husband didn't have anyone he thought would be better- he didn't come from the best family, and he didn't care to associate himself or his kids with them. So when Mary died, a few months after Sam was born and things got a bit out of hand for John in his life, well. The only person they had to give custody of the boys to was me."

* * *

><p>Castiel frowned. He didn't know what he had been expecting when he asked the question, but a frank explanation of the family's past wasn't something he had thought Crowley would give.<p>

Crowley paused again, biting his lip and staring off into space, perhaps in contemplation, but only for a moment. He snapped back and stared right at Castiel, continuing. "So that's it. I retained custody of them when Sam was still just an infant, but Dean was already four. He had enough problems after his mom died, and then watching his father slowly descend into drunkenness; he was too young to understand that being taken away from him was for the best. He was a brat about it for a very long time, and I figured the best way to get him out of it, to get him to trust me, was to just be myself and be rude to him right back. Not put on a false front, try to buy him over to my side with fake sweetness like the social workers they'd been with for weeks." Crowley paused and chuckled without humor. "He terrorized them, I heard. But that's it." Crowley stopped again, still staring right into Castiel's eyes, as if daring him to ask anything else. "That's the story. I'm the only father Sam has ever known, and he's good and he's quiet. Dean is a holy terror who would probably only take advantage and become a spoiled brat if a pushover of a parent had raised him, and now he would only be confused if I started being nice- he knows I care, but overbearing kindness and understanding- that just isn't how things work around here."

And Castiel could see that; it made sense. It didn't mean Crowley cared for his kids any less, that he wasn't a good parent, and it would have even been perhaps understandable if he weren't considering the children hadn't been anything he had asked for. He was a good man, deep down, under his caustic surface, and his children- Dean especially- were enough used to it to look past it, to know that it was just how he was. Castiel understood now; it was sweet, in its own way. His own parents weren't themselves around himself and his siblings, and never had been. They didn't care enough to even be around often enough for their kids to know who they really were as people.

He wondered, though; he hadn't expected the boys' past to be quite that dramatic, but he realized it wasn't his place to ask, no matter how curious he was about their father or what had happened with them all those years ago. He did, though, figure he needed to know one other thing.

"So have you formally adopted Sam and Dean, or do you just retain custody?" Surely a legal matter relating to the boys wouldn't be something out of the realm of his purview. Crowley sneered upon hearing the question, but not at Castiel; he appeared to be thinking on something from the past again.

"I adopted them about a year after I started looking after them." He didn't say anything else, so Castiel took that as a cue to not question further; he had been told all he needed to know.

Looking down at the baby monitor in his hand though, he thought of one other thing that he might need to be made aware of.

"And Adam?" He asked. He wasn't sure how the infant fit into things, though he was also unsure as to how Crowley would react to the question; Castiel was pleased when he did not seem angered or annoyed.

Crowley just shrugged and finally looked away from him, and out the hall window. "He's related to Sam and Dean. When officials finally found out his father had had previous children that were adopted, they came to me, figuring it was best to keep blood together." Castiel could hear that there was a story there, the things that were being left unsaid, and he wondered what they were, what had lead to Adam needing a home, but he didn't want to push. Crowley had clearly already shared more than he was strictly comfortable with out of necessity, so he willed his curiosity down. He stood awkwardly for a few moments, wondering what he could say after that.

"Shall I begin to prepare lunch, then?" he asked, deciding to break the tense silence he could already feel beginning to mount. It was 12 o'clock now, and Crowley had gone over the schedule with him in detail- they all ate all meals together on weekends as a family, and Castiel was welcome to join them if he wished, as multiple of their previous nannies had done; part of his job in looking after the children was making breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks, which he was paid far above the normal rate for someone who took a usual nanny position caring for three to make for the entire family. Crowley had told him he didn't have to make anything special regularly, that Sam and Dean didn't care, and although he was fond of fine dining, he had grown used to normal fare with the last few women that had come through. He did seem pleasantly surprised, though, when Castiel admitted that he could cook adequately, and would not mind doing so regularly, as he enjoyed the task of cooking. There was something nice, in the preciseness and the expected, knowing how mixing things would create something known. The added responsibility was not something he considered bothersome; he was merely glad that he was not expected to clean.

Crowley nodded at him. "Yes, it is about time for that." He stared down the hall, clearly listening to the sound of Dean tossing things around in his room. "Just do something simple today, and then I'll drive you over to get your things and get it out of the way."

"Shall I call Sam and Dean now, or after lunch is prepared?"

Crowley smiled at him again, a small upturn of his lips, as he always did whenever Castiel did something he seemed to like, such as asking seemingly obvious questions or asking for specific instructions. It made Castiel wonder after the abilities of the people that had been in his position previously.

Crowley shook his head. "No. You get started with lunch and I'll worry about getting the boys into the dining room and ready." And with that, he walked away. Castiel stared after him, as he descended the stairs, most likely to go and retrieve Sam. Crowley was an odd man, but Castiel figured he liked him.

**iii.**

Castiel had found the ingredients for sandwiches in the kitchen, and figured that would be a safe, simple choice. He had been assured that Sam and Dean were not, thankfully, picky eaters, that Adam was the fussiest one in the house, so he did not pay any mind as to what type would be appropriate.

"You're a man." He was startled out of the reverie he had allowed himself to be lulled into as he spread mustard onto the slices of bread, and turned around to see Sam, looking up at him suspiciously.

"That is correct, Sam," he said, unsure what else Sam may have been expecting as a response. "I am a male." Sam furrowed his brow and suddenly looked confused.

"But if you're a man, are you still going to try to marry my Dad?"

Castiel froze, and his mind went blank. Where would Sam get an idea like that? "No, Sam, I am not going to try to marry your father. That would not only be highly inappropriate due to our working relationship, but it would also be illegal."

"But my last two nannies were going to try to. I heard them talk about it," he leaned in and lowered his voice. "One of them realized I'd heard them on the phone once and told me I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but I did, and Dad fired her, because she was just working here to try to date him. Dean says she was a gold digger." Sam looked confused again and looked up at him in question. "What's a gold digger?"

Castiel looked away from Sam and went back to creating sandwiches. "A gold digger is a person, stereotypically female, who wishes to marry someone not out of love or familial obligation, but merely because their potential spouse has an excessive fortune they wish to gain access to out of a sense of greed."

"So people wanted to marry Dad because he has lots of money."

"Yes." Castiel wondered if tomatoes would be necessary- some people liked them, but he had always felt they were too squishy and dripped too much to be appropriate in food that was meant to be held.

"But _you_ don't." Castiel looked sideways at Sam, as the eight year old had moved to stand beside him, and was still looking up at him curiously.

"No, Sam. I did not agree to look after you with intentions of marrying your father because he is wealthy; even if I had entertained such hopes, it is illegal in the United States for two males to marry."

"Why?" Sam just continued to appear curious. Castiel wasn't sure what would be appropriate for him to say.

"Because people in politics are overly religious idiots who are so miserable with their own lives that they have to take it out on others," Crowley said as he walked into the room. "Really, how long can it take to make sandwiches? Did you bake the bread yourself?"

Castiel frowned. "No. I merely spent a few minutes familiarizing myself with the kitchen and its contents, for future reference."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Well, get a move on. And are you ever going to take off that trench coat?" And he left the room again. Sam stared after his father and then looked back up at Castiel.

"Do you want any help?"

Castiel smiled down at him. "That would be very nice, Sam."

* * *

><p>Lunch was rather a rushed affair, Crowley hurrying them along. Castiel assured him that he had called Anna already while he and Sam had made lunch to be sure she wouldn't mind him coming over. He tried to insist on going on his own, but Crowley had work to do later, and as Castiel didn't have a car and would have to take the bus, he didn't want to have to wait that long. Crowley insisted on driving over, taking Adam and Sam with them; Dean hadn't been allowed to go, though he had said he wanted to, that he wanted to 'help,' but Crowley knew he just wanted to get out of cleaning his room for longer.<p>

As he had expected, it wasn't a very good neighborhood; not the worst in New York, not by a long shot, but the apartment building and the ones surrounding it were dirty, their stone and brick exteriors covered in grime, obviously not having been washed in some time. "Do you have much to bring over?" He asked. He didn't particularly care to go up, but if it would hurry things along if he did, he wouldn't be averse.

"I only have a few suitcases. It should not take me long to bring them down," Castiel said, moving to get out of the car, but pausing when he noticed Crowley turning around to look at Sam, saying,

"Sam, can you unbuckle your brother? We're going to go up and help Castiel get his things." Sam nodded and started making short work of the straps of the car-seat, and Castiel looked back over at his Crowley. He was doing the cute tilty head thing again. "I don't want to be here all day. My car was extremely expensive, and I don't want to have to replace it," he explained, nodding emphatically towards the neighborhood outside the window.

Castiel nodded in understanding, not looking offended in the least. Crowley was surprised; didn't the man ever have an adverse reaction to anything?

Castiel got out of the car and opened the backseat door, beckoning Sam out while Crowley got Adam. "Please just tell me the elevator isn't broken," Crowley said. "Whenever anyone comes to decrepit old buildings, it seems like the destination is always at least thirty floors up by stairs."

"The elevator is broken, yes," Castiel nodded in reply. Crowley could feel his expression darkening, before Castiel continued: "but Anna lives on the second floor." Crowley made a motion with his hand for Castiel to lead the way, and the man began walking to the front door of the old gray building, pressing a buzzer by the name tag labeled "Novak."

"Cas?" a crackly voice asked, and Castiel replied:

"Yes. I have come with Mr. Sheffield and two of the children." And then there was a click and Castiel opened the door to the building. It was dark in the hallway, as there weren't any windows and a few of the lights were burnt out, but it wasn't as unclean as the outside had led him to believe. The walls could use a good wipe down and a fresh coat of paint, but there wasn't any writing or graffiti on them, and there were no loud noises coming out of the homes behind the multitude of doors they walked past on their way to the stairwell.

It was a quick walk up and over to Anna's door, and before he knew it Castiel was being pulled into a hug by a tall red haired woman in one of the doorways. She pulled back and smiled at him and then glanced over at Crowley, Adam and Sam.

"You must be Mr. Sheffield," she smiled brightly and offered her hand. Crowley nodded and shook her hand in return. She stepped back and allowed them into the apartment before turning back to Castiel. "I went ahead and brought your stuff out into the living room, it's all sitting by the couch." Castiel nodded and thanked her. Her smile turned a tad awkward and she wrung her hands together, as if she wasn't sure what else to say, while Castiel walked from the front hall to the living room to check his things and make sure it was all there, Sam trailing behind him. Sam had, oddly, taken to Castiel rather quickly, following him around like a puppy.

"So has Castiel lived with you for long?" He asked; of course he already knew the answer, but his curiosity about the family was getting the best of him.

Anna shook her head. "No, only a few weeks. It hasn't been easy, but-" she cut herself off and shrugged. "Castiel is a good person. He just got into a bit of a fight with the family, and then," she waved her hand, "everything he knew was different. This was the only place he could come to." She looked Crowley in the eye. "So thank you, for giving him a chance. This past month hasn't been very easy for him." She smiled down at Adam then. "He's also very good with children, so it seems like a good fit." She turned her grin back up at Crowley, and Crowley tried to smile back. That hadn't answered _anything._

"Castiel seems remarkably well put together, for someone who just had his whole life changed."

Anna's expression took on a sadder quality at that comment. "He always has been rather resilient; whether that's because he's actually that strong, or that good at hiding his feelings, I'm not sure." Crowley wasn't sure that he liked this woman; she was sharing an awful lot of information with a stranger about her own cousin. "I'm only telling you this because I want you to know that Castiel-" she paused, as if considering her words. "He's just. He's a good person. And the reason he fell out with the rest of the family was personal, and petty, and in my mind, he didn't do anything wrong. They did." She stopped then, and shifted her gaze to the floor. "I just want you to know that you made a good choice, is all. You've probably looked into him and found out that he recently lost his job and moved in here, and you may have wondered why. I just want you to know that he didn't do anything wrong." She smiled brightly again. "And thank you. For taking him in. It'll be good for him, having a steady routine again."

Crowley nodded, and was about to try to work his way into asking what, exactly, Castiel and the rest of their family had gotten into a disagreement over, because while he appreciated the sincerity of her words, it didn't sate his curiosity. _At all_. It had to be big if Castiel was kicked out of the fold for it, but what was as huge as that that Anna would also be able to dismiss as no big deal so easily?

Before he could ask, however, Castiel walked back into the room, carrying a suitcase and two duffle bags while Sam had a second smaller duffle bag cradled in both arms. "Is that everything?" Crowley asked instead.

Castiel nodded. "Everything is here." He looked to his cousin and stepped closer to her, allowing her to hug him again- he accepted it awkwardly, as though hugs weren't something he was entirely used to. "Thank you for getting my things together, Anna."

"It was no problem, Cas," she said, smiling, as she released him.

**iv.**

"But what if she doesn't _like_ it," Dean whined, sitting at the kitchen table while Castiel chopped potatoes- Crowley wondered what the man was making. In the weeks he'd been there, he'd never made anything on the level of filet mignon, but he also hadn't been lying when he said he could cook. Castiel turned towards Dean, and Crowley shrunk back from the cracked open doorway and slipped further into the other room. He liked to do this sometimes, listen to Castiel interact with the boys, make sure that things were still going smoothly. And, to his slight surprise, they had been. Although Dean had been wary of Castiel for the first few days, he did eventually warm up to him, especially once he learned that, while no one else in the house would, Castiel would actually _listen_ to him ramble about the inanities of his days and the successes and miseries of his love life.

"I am sure that even if she doesn't like the gift itself, she will appreciate the gesture. 'It's the thought that counts' is a well known adage for a reason," Castiel said to him before turning back to the potatoes.

Dean just looked confused. "Who says that? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Castiel was silent for a moment and his hand holding the knife stopped moving before he set the object down. Crowley could imagine the confused, scrunched eyebrow look he had on his face.

"Have you never heard that phrase, Dean?" Castiel had turned to face him again, the exact look Crowley had imagined he'd have settled over his features, before it morphed into understanding. "Knowing your father, I am not surprised." Crowley wasn't sure if he should be offended or pleased; Dean was right in that it was an idiotic saying. "The phrase simply means that even if she does not enjoy your gift, she will be pleased because it shows that you were thinking of her."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that, I'm not dumb. But that's still really stupid."

"And how, Dean, is that stupid?" Castiel didn't sound displeased or annoyed- Crowley was pleased to find that he just sounded curious.

"If girls were expected to get _guys_ things, and she bought me a stupid present, I'd never talk to her again and I'd find a girl who got me awesome shit." Dean shrugged, and Crowley had to hold back from shouting at him about his colorful word choice. "Thought is great and all, but I'd rather have something cool."

Castiel tilted his head in consideration. "I can see how your dilemma is an issue." He stared at Dean for a moment more and then once again returned to his work. "Luckily, however, this is no longer something you need to concern yourself with- you won't be going out Saturday." There were a few moments of silence before,

"_What_," Dean said, indignant.

Castiel continued to work and didn't even bother to look at him this time. "Your father had a conversation with you about appropriate language only two days ago, and you know I'm going to have to inform him of what you just said, which will result in you losing your allowance for the week and with it your means of purchasing anything." Castiel paused as he continued to work. "Could you please set the oven to three hundred and twenty five degrees? I need to start the chicken soon." Dean grumbled, obviously upset, but complied.

Crowley couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. If anything could ever have a hope of making him believe in God, it would be how wonderfully Castiel had suddenly fit into his life.

**v.**

"So how are things with the new nanny working out?"

Crowley had to stop himself from looking surprised- that was a question he honestly hadn't expected. One of the reasons he _liked _Zachariah was because he refrained from small talk and kept things professional and to the point. He looked up at the man and frowned.

"I'll be honest- they'd be working out much better if I could actually get home on time, for once, so if those are the personnel reports in your hand, you could kindly set them down and _get out._" Today had obviously not been a good day. Between incompetent underlings and disappointing numbers, all he wanted to do was _leave_.

Zachariah just smiled and set the files down on his desk. Another reason he liked the man- he actually listened and didn't take things personally. "Alright. Well, I already marked what you should take a look at, so if you need anything, just give me a call," and he smiled again, and walked out Crowley's office without a look back, apparently unaffected by his boss's foul mood.

* * *

><p>Getting home was a blessing. It was still later than he would have liked, even for a weekday- Sam and Dean both would surely be in bed by now, and even having been left in the oven the dinner Castiel had set aside for him would be cold.<p>

He turned the lock on the front door and made his way silently through the dark house, up the stairs and down the hall, wondering if Castiel was still up when he saw it; a faint light straining out into the hall from a crack in Adam's bedroom door. It wasn't surprising, as he was fussy and wakeful on the best of nights, but the odd part was that he couldn't hear any crying or wailing.

He made his way to the door and peaked in, and for the first time in a long time, he was honestly confused by what he saw.

Castiel was staring at the baby.

Nothing else. Just staring. Holding him in his arms, a good length from his body, and staring, with that intense, unreadable, unnerving expression he got on his face sometimes, and he just continued to stare at Adam, and in their reflection in the mirror on the wall behind them, Crowley could see the toddler's eyes drooping as he fell asleep. A small bubble of warmth built itself up somewhere in his chest, watching the scene, and he took a quick step back and continued on down the hall, though the picture wouldn't leave his mind- Castiel standing there in his dress shirt, wrinkled from the day and with the top few buttons undone, his eyes still so obviously blue in the dim light, holding Adam gently- Crowley shook his head, and tried to dispel the image. He wasn't a bloody woman.

Castiel was, though, very good with the children, and Crowley would be lying if he said he wasn't an attractive man. An _extremely _attractive man, that he lived with day in and day out, that stayed in his home and cooked meals and raised his kids well, and who didn't get on his nerves (such a _rare_ trait) and who made the most strangely adorable facial expressions and who was actually _interesting_; and so Crowley would also be lying if he said that the scene he had just witnessed wasn't something that made the heart his employees didn't believe he had speed just a little and his breath catch- he'd by lying if he said he wasn't interested, that it had never crossed his mind.

But Castiel was just so good with the kids, and Crowley, dare he say it, actually _liked _him. He didn't want to ruin the situation by being- oh, how laughable a past version of himself would have found this- too forward. So Crowley would wait. He would wait, and he would watch.

**vi.**

Castiel glanced up at him sharply as he entered the room. "You remembered the Sudafed?"

Crowley rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. "Yes, I remembered the bloody Sudafed. You only told me to get it fifteen times before I left," he said, perhaps a touch harshly in his hushed tone, trying not to wake Sam as he handed the box over.

Castiel glared at him. "Last time you forgot it even after I told you."

"And you haven't let me forget that since, have you," Crowley asked in mock seriousness, though his amusement was plainly apparent. He liked that he could banter with Castiel- there were so few people who were ever direct enough with him for it.

"I apologize that I take the health of the children seriously. If it has become an encumbrance or an annoyance, I'll try to stop," Castiel said stonily, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes that Crowley enjoyed.

Crowley shook his head. "No, no, carry on with the caring. Someone around here has to," he said, as he turned to walk back out the bedroom door. "I'll start on dinner while you sit with the plague victim." He turned back to catch Castiel's nod and small smile, saw him open his mouth to say something before he shut it when he realized Sam was waking, and he turned back and left while Castiel refocused his attention.

**vii.**

Castiel had never expected this.

After he left his home, he knew that his life wouldn't be the same. It would be difficult for him to find a job in the same area he had been working, as he was far too overqualified for most positions that were hiring, and there were few openings in the areas he _was _qualified for. This was, though, one of the least of his worries. Even a few days after he had left and gone to live with Anna, when his family's betrayal still stung the most, he could see at least this change in his life as a blessing. Finance wasn't an industry he had ever cared for.

But he had wondered, if he wasn't going to do that, then what?

As he stood in the frame of Adam's bedroom door, and watched Crowley Sheffield with his youngest son, he was, for the first time, truly and completely glad about his forced life change. Looking after Dean, Sam, and Adam made for far more interesting days than any of the ones in his previous positions, and as days went by and he grew fonder and fonder of the boys, he found himself growing fonder and fonder of their father as well. He hadn't been sure about Crowley after their first meeting, but at least from his first day starting the job, he had liked him. He was close to his children, and he treated them well, and he was a funny, and interesting, if sometimes a seemingly very angry man.

He allowed himself to smile as he watched Crowley try to use the same technique that he himself used multiple times to get Adam to sleep, staring at the boy, but frowning as he failed. Adam just giggled up at his father, seemingly perfectly wakeful. Crowley was moving around too much, Castiel noted- Adam fell asleep more easily when he was held still, which was obviously working contrary to Crowley's instincts.

"Would you like me to put him back down to sleep," he asked quietly, stepping further into the room lit dimly by the morning light, and Crowley scowled over at him.

"No, thank you. I am quite capable of doing this myself."

Castiel shook his head. "Of this I have no doubt. Adam, however, seems to have a few doubts of his own on the matter," he said, staring down at the still noisy baby in Crowley's arms. Crowley's scowl deepened and he glared. Castiel allowed his smile to grow a tad larger as he continued "I'll have coffee prepared downstairs, when you're finished," and he left the room.

* * *

><p>He heard Crowley walking towards the kitchen before he saw him, and he set his coffee, black, down on the table before moving to continue preparing his own. Crowley entered the kitchen with a long suffering sigh, which made Castiel smile again.<p>

"I don't know how you do it. Hell, I don't know how _I _did it before you came along," he said, which is as close to an (honest) compliment as Crowley has ever really gotten.

"I'm sure you managed adequately before," Castiel replied, mixing sugar into his cup.

Crowley snorted. "If by 'adequate,' you mean that I never got any sleep, then yes, things were very adequate. Fantastic, even." He took a sip of his coffee and sat down at the table before staring up at Castiel. If Castiel didn't know Crowley better, he would say that the man hesitated before saying "Listen carefully, because I'm not going to say this again." He paused, and Castiel without a doubt knew that it was only for dramatic effect. "Thank you." Castiel waited, but Crowley didn't continue- he merely returned his attention to the coffee cup in his hands.

Castiel frowned. Crowley looked back up at him and allowed himself to appear confused that Castiel was still staring at him and waiting for him to continue, and Castiel realized that this, too, was a part of Crowley's act, a mechanism to draw attention to the fact that whatever he was going to end up saying was important.

"For the coffee? I have made it no differently than I do any other day," he said, playing along. Crowley rolled his eyes at him.

"Would I really thank you for pushing a button and pouring liquid into a cup?"

"Then for?"

Crowley paused again, and this time let his face remain neutral. "For being here. For turning up, and accepting the job offer. For being good at what you do, and for getting along so well with the kids. I know that they don't always make life easy." Castiel felt a warmth growing in his chest at the words, but outwardly only tilted his head in confusion.

"But those things, like pressing a button and pouring liquid into a cup, are a mere part of my job. I don't need thanks for that." No matter how happy it might make him. He hadn't been thanked much anything, before, because he had always just done what was expected of him.

Crowley laughed humorlessly at his words. "Do please tell that to the other people who work for me." He made sure to catch Castiel's eye and said "Really, though. Thank you." And then Crowley got up and picked up his suitcase that he had left by his chair, and started to leave. When he was almost to the door he did turn back and say over his shoulder in a, there was no other way to say it, playful tone "also, thank you for the coffee."

Castiel squinted at the door Crowley had walked out of and took another sip of coffee, pushing down his smile and ignoring the inappropriate thoughts and feelings Crowley's departing words and tone had left him with. It was going to be time to wake Sam and Dean soon.

* * *

><p>Dean was out playing baseball with his friends and Sam was over visiting Boone from next door when he heard voices in the foyer; that wasn't a common occurrence. Crowley never had many guests, and especially not on weekends.<p>

"So these are all of the reports on the overhaul," someone was saying, not Crowley, but it was a voice he had definitely heard before, though he couldn't quite place it. "He said that if we can't-" the voice stopped, and Castiel froze.

It was him. Zachariah. The man who had sold Anna out and- "Oh, why, if it isn't the lady of the house," Zachariah said, smirking, staring at him, and Castiel stared between them, Zachariah and Crowley, and a small pit of worry began to form in his gut. If Crowley was working with Zachariah-

"Well, if that's all, then," Crowley said curtly, giving Zachariah a dark look and leading him towards the front door. He looked back at Castiel almost apologetically, and Zachariah turned and gave Crowley a handshake and tossed a jaunty wave at Castiel before he was out the door, and it was shut and locked behind him. Crowley walked over to stand before him, and Castiel knew he must have looked worried, because Crowley almost never allowed himself to seem concerned unless one of the boys was sick or hurt. "I'm not sure what got into him just then," he said, almost quietly, and then glanced at Castiel suspiciously. "Do you know him? I've never seen the little brown noser mock someone before when it could conflict with his best interest."

"And why would that have conflicted with his best interest." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could retract them. He had never been good at evasion on short notice.

Crowley just raised his eyebrows. "You're a part of my family, Castiel. He'd usually know better."

Castiel tried to hang onto the worry he was feeling so that he wouldn't feel too much happiness at Crowley's words. He enjoyed being part of an _actual _family. "Am I truly?" He was tempted to voice all of his doubts- that he wasn't going to be needed for long, that Adam was nearly one and in a small matter of time, he could start daycare, and his services would no longer be necessary, that he didn't want to be back out the door and lose his few tenuous connections all over again. They weren't things he often allowed himself to think, but they came to the surface now.

Crowley just stared at him. "Are you an idiot? Of course you are. You may be a part of it by contract, but that just makes you even more invaluable," and Crowley was smiling now, only it came off a little more as a smirk. "Since it means you can't leave without giving notice. Believe me, I'd marry you if I could to make it even more difficult for you to ever leave." Castiel wasn't exactly sure if he should be flattered or afraid, but his traitorous feelings decided to go with pleased. "But you didn't answer my question," Crowley continued, and Castiel frowned again. He may not wish to, but this was something that was necessary to discuss- Zachariah. He worried Castiel. He was a man that couldn't be trusted. "I suppose though that your silence is answer enough."

"I apologize, I hadn't meant to— I had not intended to hold anything back," Castiel started. "I'm just not certain on how to begin."

"Well, they always say to begin at the beginning."

"You can't trust him."

Crowley glanced back towards the door, where Zachariah had last stood. "Well that's fine, because if you hadn't noticed I don't trust anyone outside of this house. It doesn't exactly pay off well."

"He married Anna for her position, but when it became apparent that she was not in as good of standing with the rest of our family as she outwardly appeared, he drained large portions of their bank accounts and left her."

Crowley's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he didn't look all that surprised. "Well, that explains that, then. But at least you don't have to worry about the same fate befalling me," he smirked again. "As I said, the only gay marriage happening here is my forced marriage to you to get you to stay and watch the kids forever. Outside of that, Zachariah is not at all my type." Castiel tried to ignore the almost flirty look Crowley seemed to have on his face and suppress what it was doing to his insides. "But he's good at what he does, and I can handle him. He may be a right bastard, but that's often what one needs in this industry." Crowley took a step back, then, but must have noticed something in Castiel's expression, because he didn't leave like Castiel had expected him to. "It's really nothing at all to worry about. He's already tried blackmailing me." Crowley just rolled his eyes at Castiel's expression of shock. "I told him to shove his information, because I honestly don't care _what _anyone knows about my sexuality. I've legally adopted the boys and I'm damn good at my job, so that was really an idiotic threat anyways. I almost didn't want to hire him, for choosing something so inane to use, but in the end I realized that it really must have taken balls and either zero sense self preservation or extreme overconfidence to even threaten me at all. So I offered him a job." Crowley shrugged, as if it were nothing.

"I don't see how you can trust him."

"That's just the thing- I don't. I kept the evidence of his blackmail attempt, and have let him know in no uncertain terms that if he steps at all out of line, all of it is going to the police." Crowley's smirk turned just a little darker. "What I've just said isn't going to cause any problems, is it?" Castiel wasn't sure if Crowley was referring to his vague statement about sexual preferences or his counter-blackmail, but it didn't matter either way, because:

"No. It isn't."

Crowley smiled then, as if they had just had a normal conversation, and said, "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to take care of." He finally moved away and went up the stairs. It was the only time Castiel ever worried about what, exactly, he had gotten himself into.

**viii.**

Adam was finally starting to say short words and phrases, which Crowley found oddly gratifying; Adam was barely over a year old, and already he could say "book now" when he wanted Castiel to read to him.

It was a quiet afternoon, and Sam and Dean were both out again, making the most of their winter holiday. Castiel was sitting in the nursery with Adam, the pair of them sitting on the floor, Castiel reading One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish monotonously while Adam gnawed on his plastic stacking rings. Crowley tried to stay away from the room whenever Castiel would read Doctor Seuss, in order to keep from laughing.

He was in there today, though, on the pretense of reading over more reports from work in the chair in the corner of the room, but only really paying half attention to them as he watched Castiel and Adam, listened to the rise and fall of Castiel's voice, if not focusing on the words. He really was great with Adam, and with Sam and Dean, and with Crowley himself. It was something he had realized early on, on the first day, that he made the right choice hiring Castiel, but it was still something that he felt strangely happy about every damn day. It was, if he was entirely honest, getting extremely irritating. Crowley wasn't used to anyone ever making him constantly happy, and he wasn't used to waiting for things, and he especially wasn't used to anything being unattainable. But Castiel was all of those things, and it was incredibly annoying. He wasn't used to wishing for things, but if he really had to, he would just want Castiel to show some kind of-

And then Castiel noticed him looking and paused his reading for a second, looking up at him from his place on the floor, and he gave Crowley a small smile, a private smile, before Adam started making small noises of protestation, making Castiel focus back on the book again, though not before his eyes lingered on Crowley a second longer.

And then Crowley realized that this was not the first time such a thing happened. And then he further realized that no matter how well an employer and their employee got along, private smiles were never really a part of the relationship, at least not _that _sort of little smile, given while in a toddler's room as if they were both parents, as if they were already together.

And then it hit him. What it could have been that Castiel's family was so bothered by that Castiel couldn't, or perhaps wouldn't, change, what it could have been that caused him to leave. What was, in Anna's words, petty and not actually a big deal. Crowley had to suppress a smile of his own.

And so, he decided, fuck it. He hated unnecessary waiting.

**ix. **

His house was filled to the brim with intolerable brats, and Crowley _wanted to kill himself_. Why had he ever agreed to let Dean have his birthday party at the house? Why? Was he a _complete imbecile? _

He tried not to trip over baseball equipment as he made his way down the stairs, after having changed his shirt for the third time. One day, when the girl that spilt Kool-Aid on him was older, he was going to murder her. She was lucky he had a rule against harming children.

At least, though, they were mostly all outside, and finally crowding around the large table set up in the back yard for Dean's cake and the presents. He'd missed most of the gifts being opened while he was upstairs (thank _god_) but it seemed to finally be time for the cake.

The kids were all sitting around the table, some of them shoving at each other, and Dean caught his eye from the head of it, where he was standing, looking at his cake longingly. "Dad, if you don't hurry up with the candles I'm just going to eat it," he said, loudly, only to have both of his friends standing next to him cry out in outrage. Crowley patted his pockets. He could have sworn he'd put-

"The matches are already on the table. They fell out of your pocket when Linda ran into you two hours ago," came quiet words from his side. Castiel had appeared out of nowhere and was standing beside him, watching the scene in the backyard. "I admit, I was skeptical when Dean said he could convince you to allow all seventeen of his 'closest friends' over for his birthday party; I see now that I was wrong." It had taken Crowley weeks to finally pick up Castiel's joking tone, as subtle as it was, and was glad that he had as the man was using it now. "What possessed you to allow" he gestured incoherently in front of himself "all of this?"

"He threatened to cry."

Castiel looked at him doubtfully. "That cannot be all."

"No, really. He can cry on command, and it's not pretty. The last time I refused him something he really, truly wanted, all he did was sit in his room and cry for days. I was tempted to find a way to deafen myself permanently to get it to stop."

Castiel tilted his head consideringly. "Then, Crowley, I have to say, I am going to cry for days if you don't light the cake. I would like for the children to go home." He stared at Crowley unblinkingly. "As soon as possible." As Crowley didn't move, Castiel continued to stare. "I will begin at any time as you continue standing here."

Crowley huffed but started to walk forward, Castiel trailing behind him towards the mass of children. "You aren't very funny, you know. You have a horrible sense of humor."

"I have been told that many times, yes." And Crowley knew he wasn't imagining the smile in Castiel's voice.

As they came up to the table and some of the kids sighed in relief, Dean saying "_Finally, _what took you so long," one of the girls next to him, a prissy looking little thing, said "Dean, you shouldn't talk to your dads like that."

Dean choked, Castiel stopped in his place, and all of the other children carried on as if nothing had happened. Sam continued to sit sullenly at the other end of the table trying futilely to read his book (he was still upset Dean had chosen coconut cake, which Sam _hated_) and the other brats kept talking, shoving, playing, screaming, and paying no mind to anything going on around them. Crowley rolled his eyes, walked over to the cake, lit a match, and started lighting up the candles. Castiel finally made his way over to stand a very short distance behind him and Dean, and when Crowley had lit all twelve candles and took a step back to allow Dean to sit before his cake again, Castiel didn't move any further back, didn't step away. Crowley could feel Castiel's presence and warmth behind him, could see Sam and Dean at the table, saw the upstairs window open to the nursery, and for the first time that day didn't mind all of the noise and laughter and the annoyance of other people's kids invading his home. Because it was _his _home, and this was his family, and the other children would be gone soon, but his family would stay. He hated being sentimental, but it was hard not to be at times like this.

* * *

><p>It was late; Dean's friends were long since gone, and the house was finally mostly clean. Castiel had just finished washing the last of the dishes from the party and was leaning against the counter across from Crowley, having a cup of tea. Crowley did generally prefer coffee, but when Castiel had asked him if he would like tea, that he was already making some, he didn't refuse, and had stayed in the kitchen with him.<p>

Crowley was quiet, sipping at his cup, watching Castiel easily.

That was the thing, wasn't it? Everything around here since Castiel had come along had been so _easy, _so much easier than he life before had been. He'd come and he fit into their family like he'd always been there, he got along well with the boys from the start, Crowley had liked him right off, and they had somehow struck up a comfortable rapport- Crowley's sometimes cruel sense of humor didn't affect Castiel as it did others, and he actually understood Castiel's dry sense of humor. Their personalities meshed well.

Crowley stood up from his place sitting at the table and walked around the edge of it, and Castiel watched him as he approached, setting down his mug of tea on the counter. It seemed as if their thoughts had gone in a similar direction. Things had been heading to this for weeks, and earlier in the day, as they stood around Dean's cake, maybe Castiel had felt the same sense of rightness that he had.

"Today was, for all of the unbearable brats being around, rather nice, wasn't it," Crowley said. It wasn't a question. Castiel nodded his agreement.

"It was very… pleasant," he replied. From the way he was leaning back, his eyes and Crowley's were almost level. It felt natural, to lean forward, and he watched Castiel's eyes. They were considering, but not surprised. On this, too, like so many other things, they were on the same page.

Crowley leaned up, and Castiel leaned down, and when their lips met gently for a few moments before they both pulled back and looked at each other, and it was like nothing at all had changed, though Crowley did feel a pang that he wanted to do that again.

"I'll let you come upstairs with me if you promise to stay for at least the next ten years," Crowley said, and Castiel continued to stare down at him, keeping his face serious.

"If you change the terms to a lifetime, I'd like to agree." Crowley smiled at him, again. He seemed to be doing that a lot more lately.

"Why don't we seal the deal with another kiss?"

They did.

**x.**

"Ew, dad, did you have to tell us? It's not like we didn't already know." Dean looked grossed out, and Sam looked unimpressed.

"Can I go back to my room? I haven't finished my math homework yet," Sam said, and even though it was phrased as a question, he was already halfway across the living room and just about out the door. Dean stared after him, looked back at Crowley and Castiel, rolled his eyes, and followed after Sam.

Castiel sat wordlessly before turning to Crowley and saying "I see that my worries were unfounded." Crowley could only smile.

"I'm very proud of my boys, so uncaring in the face of the positive changes made in the lives of others."

Castiel gave him a small smile in return. "I see that it's like father, like sons then."

Crowley glared at him, but without heat. "Shut up, you. I could lock you out of the house accounts and just start paying you again."

Castiel just kept smiling. "I could move my things back to my old room and just stop sleeping with you again." Crowley's glare deepened.

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"Someone has to stop you from spending twenty thousand dollars on your wardrobe in less than six months."

"That was only one time."

"And it was one time too many."

And as they bickered, all was right with the world.


End file.
